The Way to the Kitchen
by marred clarity
Summary: It all started with SPEW... no wait, it all started with the house-elves. Okay, this is it really... With the size of Hogwarts, how did Hermione find the single, not to mention secret, door that would lead to the kitchen? A little help, maybe? Perhaps...
1. Where in Hogwarts is the kitchen!

**Disclaimer:**

Harry Potter is mine? Really? Thank you then! Oh… wait. Disclaimer right? Right… anyway, everything written here concerning Harry Potter was, is, and most probably will forever be owned and created by JK Rowling. I own something close to… uh, zilch? Yup! That's right. Perhaps maybe the plot, but I think I have to share that with a gazillion other people too… By the way, in this prologue, there are a lot of lines that will be from the books. The real story will start at… guess what? Chapter 1 of course! ^^

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**Author's Notes:**

Okay… first time to write a Twins/Hermione fanfic, so please, go easy with the criticisms. Anyway, I was thinking and thinking about a possible plot to get Hermione with one of the Weasley twins, so I do hope that this plot hasn't been done before. Actually, I think this has been done a thousand times before, but… eh, very unimaginative person here… Don't expect much from me. I think this will be a George/Hermione fic (due to the things I have to get from the books) so I hope no one thinks it's too weird for their liking. Anyway, I guess I've been rambling. Sorry about that… Here goes the prologue…

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**Where is the Kitchen?**

Hermione Granger was… for a lack of a better word, pissed.

Sitting in this dusty corner of the library's oldest section, she studiously read book after book in hopes of finding anything that would give her a remote idea on how the house-elves here at Hogwarts have been treated all this time.

Everyone who had a vague notion of who she was knew she was a muggleborn. She remembered her surprise, disbelief, and then excitement when she received her letter. It was like a fantasy that came true. All the books her father used to read about magic and brooms, and witches and wizards somehow made themselves manifest in her life. She felt as if her wildest dreams have somehow made it into reality.

Hogwarts was one of the best places she has ever been in. Not only did it prove to her that all this wasn't just a simple dream, it gave her the promise of providing her with all the things she would ever need in order to survive in this world.

But she had always been an avid reader and she read books far too complicated for her age. She was precocious that way. During the World Cup, she saw that even in this magical world, slaves are never far away. So what if elves were of a different species and might probably not think of their enslavement like the blacks did? It was the same thing all over again, and as long as no one did anything to start a rift, there wouldn't be any big waves to start a difference.

She'd have to be the one to do it then. She would help them no matter what.

~*~*~

The thirtieth of October came and still, Hermione had found almost nothing remotely close to her target. How could people be so prejudiced and biased in their history?! It was a conspiracy, she was sure.

Hermione, Harry and Ron went down to breakfast that morning and sat beside Fred and George, who, Hermione noticed, were sitting apart from everyone. She suspected they were up to something once again, but she was quite preoccupied with her own goal to worry about them.

"It's a bummer, all right," she heard one twin say; quite gloomily, she might add to his twin brother. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

Avoiding Fred and George? Well, she's done those lots of times. Everyone who knew the twins would avoid them when they seem too suspiciously inactive. It usually means they were up to something big. Still, his voice seemed strained somehow… Were the twins in trouble?

"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked his brothers, ever the curious one.

"Wish you would," Fred said… or was that George? Nope, it was Fred alright. He had this habit of making a face when he was irritated.

"What's a bummer?" Ron continued.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother." George said. He, on the other hand, seems to smirk when he was irritated.

"You two have any idea on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry interjected. Hermione leaned a little bit forward, wanting to hear any news the twins might have gathered. "Thought any more about entering?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," George said a little sulkily. "She just told me to shut up and get on with Transfiguring my raccoon."

Hermione wanted to say that he _should_ do that first, seeing as the OWLs are coming soon. Why, just a week ago, Professor McGonagall was telling them to be prepared and they were still fourth years.

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Ron wondered thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't" Fred said. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?"

Hermione, whose mind have been drifting away from the conversation was suddenly brought back by this question.

"Well," she said. "The Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockratice the champions were supposed to be catching went on a rampage."

Everyone around her looked surprise and she, irritated that they haven't read this in books, gave them a condensing glare. She was also quite put off because it brought to mind another problem.

"It's all in _Hogwarts, A History_. Though, of course, that book's not _entirely _reliable. _A_ Revised_ History of Hogwarts_ would be a more accurate title. Or _A__ Highly Biased and Selective_ History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School._"_

"What are you on about?" Ron asked.

"_House-elves_!" she burst, the weight of the injustice settling in her mood. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A History_ mention that we are colluding in oppression of a hundred slaves!"

She knew it was wrong to bring out her frustrations on her friends (who had actually helped, no matter how little) but she couldn't help herself. She was really pissed by this turn of events.

She noticed that almost everyone within her immediate vicinity immediately did what the always do when she was in this mood. Harry shook his head, Ron rolled his eyes and Fred and George pretended to be interested in something altogether. However, George surprised her by leaning closer towards her.

"Listen," he said. "Have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

Hermione started. Students weren't allowed in the kitchens.

"No, of course not. I hardly think students are supposed to—"

"Well, we have." George interjected. "Loads of times, to nick food. And we've meet them and they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world—"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" she said hotly. Why couldn't they see the unfairness of it all? They just wanted to have all these perks for free without having anything to return, that's all.

But as she was about to say that, the sound of flapping wings caught her attention and stopped her in her sentence. Hedwig was flying towards them with a letter in her talons. It looks like more pressing issues were at hand.

She pushed the thought away for the meantime. Now was the time to support Harry.

~*~*~

Harry's surprise party was… noisy.

True, she did have fun at first, but after that, she became thoughtful about the food they were eating. Fred and George nicked this food, right? And didn't George said that they've seen the house-elves there when they nick food? So, that would mean that they saw them while doing the act, right? She seriously must know where the kitchens are.

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred said, startling her out of her thoughts.

She eyed the tart suspiciously. One thing she learned about the twins is to never accept anything from them. You'll never know what you are after.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch—"

Suddenly, a random thought entered her mind. Who would be the most perfect person to ask to for help in finding the kitchens than one who had been there countless of times before?

"Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" she asked him.

"Yep." He said grinning, and then he did an imitation of how the house-elves had greeted them at the entrance. Hermione's blood rose a few degrees.

"How do you get there?" she asked, trying to control her temper.

"Easy," said Fred. Got you, she thought. "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and –" he stopped. Darn it, she thought. He suspects something. "Why?"

"Nothing." She said quickly. Too quickly. She wanted to slap herself.

"Going to try and lead the elves on a strike now are you?" George said. Now she wanted to slap him. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred said, warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Hermione's blood rose to quite a level and she knew if the twins don't stop, she'll do something that she'd regret, and something that would definitely hurt.

Thankfully, Neville chose that moment to create a diversion.

She'd show them, those gits! She'd go into the kitchens and tell the elves exactly what the twins told her not to. They'd rue the day they went up against Hermione Granger.

Saying that she was too tired to continue, Hermione made her way up to the fourth year dormitory and fixed herself for bed.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.

~*~*~

Okay… so, where was she now? After several long hallways, immeasurable staircase, false doors, and hidden openings, feet aching, determination fading, Hermione finally decided to admit the obvious to herself…

She was lost.

She'd been walking all over Hogwarts for hours and still, she couldn't find anything remotely similar to what Fred said about the fruit's bowl painting where you would have to tickle the pear.

Why couldn't he be more specific in his descriptions? With Hogwarts' size, he expects her to find a single painting? That is ludicrous! No one could do that! She had thought about borrowing Harry's map, but that might make him suspicious. She didn't want to tell this to anybody until she was exactly sure where it was.

"_Honestly_! This is so stupid! I'll just march off to Fred ("and/or George," she thought idly.) And demand that he show me exactly where that secret doorway is!"

Of course, there is one catch to that plan… getting them to actually give her the directions. Knowing them, they'd probably trick her into all sorts of things without giving her what she originally asked for in the first place.

'Okay,' she thought fiercely. 'One more try and I'd give up. I don't have enough power left for this!'

Resolving her determination, she set off once again.

~*~*~

She gives up!

This is too hard. She'd research in the library first and then, when the twins decide to nick food once more, she'd follow them in order to know the place.

Sure… that'd probably take longer than she had originally planned. She might not even do this in the next few weeks, but it was a whole lot better than aimlessly wandering around the school.

Slumping in a nearby wall, Hermione buried her head in her hands… She was so tired.

"Why can't I find a single painting!" she shouted, and then said a curse word that would probably stun Harry and Ron if they were there… 

No one has ever heard her curse before. After all, she was against it. But just because she prevents everybody else from saying it, doesn't mean she doesn't either… at least once or twice. Only when she was totally pissed. She was very thankful no one was there to hear her.

Unfortunately for her, today isn't exactly her day…

"Hermione?" a familiar voice asked. "Well, well… isn't this just a wonder?"

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**Author's Notes:**

Okay… I wasn't really sure how Hermione did find the door leading to the kitchens, but if it was stated and it was completely opposite this, then I'm sorry. Let's just pretend it happened this way.

A lot of things here were taken from the books. Dialogues and situations were downright copied, but please don't think it was plagiarism or anything. I needed to add them because the fic needed to coincide with Hermione's fourth year. There would be no copies in the next chapters, so please, don't get mad or sue. I didn't do it for the purpose of plagiarizing the books.

Okay… please tell me what you think. I know it isn't much and I know it must be really weird to read, but, like I said, I just started. Sorry if it sucks…

I hope you at least had fun! 

**~c!**


	2. The eventful conversation in the hallway

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Author's Notes:**

Here's the second chapter… I think both of them here were a bit OOC, but I took the chance of writing them this way, anyway. I don't recall any part in the books of when they talked seriously, so let's pretend that this is how they are when they talk about serious things. Anyway, I know this probably don't make sense, but I wanted them to see each other from different perspectives, so that there can be an opening for a relationship. Sorry if it sucks… I'm just starting at this pairing, you see. Anyway, thank you for all those who reviewed… they were all very much appreciated! =)

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**A Very Interesting Conversation******

**(The Conversation in the Hallways)**

                Hermione's head shot up at the mention of her name and almost immediately, she groaned. Of all the people to see her, why did it had to be him?

"Gee, Hermione… I never knew you used such colorful words," said one, surprisingly alone, Weasley twin. "I wonder if everyone else knew of this hidden side of yours…"

                "If everyone else knew of it, then it wouldn't be such a hidden side anymore, would it?" she said, rather scathingly, seeing as this person (whoever of the two it might be) is currently one of her top ten most hated people as of the moment. She was also trying to figure out just who exactly this twin was, but she needed more clues. One other thing that added to her already foul mood was the fact that, this person appeared just as she was thinking of hexing every single red-haired prankster on the face of the planet, preferably those with FW and GW as initials.

                "No, I suppose not," he said, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. "but it would still make for a really excellent gossip, ever think about that? Trust you to always get the facts straight and spoil my fun at the process…"

                Was it her, or did he seem like he was thoroughly enjoying her irritation. Hermione looked at him closely and realized that he was in fact, enjoying her miserable state. How dare he laugh at her expense? She would show him. Nobody laughs at Hermione Granger and gets away with it… nobody. 

                "I'm sorry that I have to be alive and spoil your fun then." She snapped, and realizing his smile only grew, she turned her anger towards him and spat, "Something funny?!"

                "No… no…" he answered quickly, shaking his head (though his shoulders shook a little and gave away the fact that he was indeed laughing) and raised his hands in front of him like a shield. "I just remembered a very amusing memory all of a sudden and it made me laugh."

                'Of course,' she thought crossly. 'Something that made him laugh… maybe something suspiciously like a bushy-haired, bookworm who was slumped on some unknown hallway while she was futilely trying to help enslaved creatures all the while having to carry the brunt of ridicule from people like you!'

                Okay, even she had to admit that that thought was uncalled for, but for some unknown reason, the Weasley twins have just landed themselves a higher rank on her most hated list.

                He moved and sat directly in front of her slumped body giving her a once over which made her feel a little bit ashamed of her appearance. He sat Indian style and propped his chin on his hands, while he continued staring at her. Suddenly, he smiled, as if liking what he saw, and this disturbed her a little more than she was willing to admit.

                "Who are you, anyway?" she asked him sharply, hiding her discomfort with harsh words. She narrowed her eyes at him and was quite glad to see that this question had surprised him somehow.

                "You forgot who I am?" he asked, faking a hurt countenance. "The hurt is intolerable… To be forgotten by you is too painful for me to take." He said dramatically. "How could you be so heartless?"

                "Right…" she said her voice expressionless. "It isn't so hard to say, is it? You know your name? It's just a single syllable, starts with either F or G, and you probably won't die from saying either one of it…"

                He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to look at her. She would have laughed at seeing this comical play, but she had to remain expressionless. She wouldn't want him to think that he was getting to her… which he was of course. She just refuse to say it out loud, especially to him.

                "You're no fun," he said sulkily. "I'm George, if you must know. It's such a pity, Hermione… I always thought you were psychic or something. You were one of the few people that were so hard to confuse."

                She was ready to believe him, but she had to make sure. One can never be too confident when it regards Fred and George. She looked at him fiercely, which was quite scary seeing as she almost at eye level to him, and scowled the most demeaning scowl she could master.

                It worked beautifully…

                "Okay, okay!" he said, holding his hand up as if in surrender. "I'm Fred. Don't look at me that way, would you?"

                Hermione softened her gaze and gave a small smile. One last thing and she can be fully sure. "I figured it was you." She said. "After all, Harry and Ron did say that George thought I was too much of a pain these days…" she sighed for added effect, schooling her expression into one of melancholy. "They said he had decided to avoid me until I grew out of my, I quote, 'so-called S.P.E.W. obsession.' I just thought it weird when you said you were George…" she sighed again. "I never knew George could be that mean…"

                He sat straighter at that, an emotion that suspiciously looked like disbelief flashing across his eyes. His eye twitched when she said what Harry and Ron had told her and his expression changer more so when she said the obsession part. Was that irritation just now? Yes, he did seem to be irritated and suddenly he smirked.

                "They said that, did they?" he asked, his voice laced with faint traces of irritation and his lips was drawn in a thin line. "Well, George hasn't mentioned anything to me about that and I'm supposed to be his twin. Are you sure that was what they meant?"

                Hermione's smile widened. Finally, she was sure. Only one twin smirks when he was irritated and it certainly wasn't Fred. "No. I was just kidding, _George_." She said, emphasizing his name. "You do know that lying is a sin, right?"

                "What the—" George said, surprised, gaping like a fish out of water. "How did you… How did you know I was lying?"

                "Oh, I have my ways…" she replied, amused. "You shouldn't have tricked me, you know. I never let myself get tricked by anyone without getting back at them."

                "Yes, it does seem that way, isn't it? Aren't you such a perfect Slytherin," he said, his voice bordering on amusement and irritation. "Still, I did say I was George first, didn't I? You were the one who refused to believe me."

                "You're credibility level is extremely low on my scale…" she sardonically. "Nothing you can do about it, sorry."

                George laughed, throwing his head back. She was extremely entertaining to have around. Without her book always buried in a nose… oops! Without her nose always buried in a book, Hermione Granger was a very fun person to be with. He gave her a look that showed approval, but this made him remember something.

                "So," he started. "What is Ms SPEW doing here, so far away from her usual haunting ground and screaming at walls, not to mention saying things she normally wouldn't say?"

                Hermione scowled at the coined name, and even more so because she was now reminded of her problem. She also remembered that George was supposed to be one of her most hated people as of the moment. It was something that quite saddened her because his presence had lifted her mood considerably.

                "Would you help me if I tell you?" she asked.

                "If I could do anything, then I would." He answered back.

                "You could do something, but you have to promise me first." She challenged. "Promise you'll help me and I'd tell you."

                George scowled. It must be something of great importance if she was being so adamant about it. Was she in trouble? He hardly thinks she'd do something that could anger the teachers… George scanned his memory for anything that could ail Hermione. Only one thing was brought to mind…

                "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "This wouldn't be about a certain movement to free the so-called oppressed house-elves, would it?"

                Hermione blushed a little, until she seemed to gather her resolve. "So what if it does?" she retorted, irritation evident in her voice. "Don't they have the right to have the same rights as we do? They do so much for us and get nothing —absolutely nothing— in return! That is total injustice!"

                "Hermione, they don't want anything in return, can't you see that? They're happy as they are. You'll only make them more unhappy if you continue this." He argued, but she seemed deaf to his logic.

                "How would you know if no one has ever tried it?" she said stiffly. "Look at Dobby. He was extremely happy to be free."

                George became unusually quiet and when he spoke, his tone was serious. "Do you remember Winky? Crouch's elf?" he asked her. Of course she did… Winky was the very elf that made her see the injustice against house-elves in the first place.

                "Seen her recently?" She shook her head at that. "Well good for you, because you know what, she's miserable." She wanted to ask how he knew this, but he held up a hand to silence her. "Completely and utterly miserable. She's been miserable since she was sacked, I gather, and why wouldn't she be? The person she'd worked for practically her whole life suddenly thought she wasn't of use anymore… he fired her, just like that…"

                "That's exactly what I'm—"

                "And," George interrupted her, his voice considerable stronger. "now, she, herself, believed she is of no use anymore. What would you feel if that thought entered your mind?"

                Hermione stared at George, her eyes full of disbelief. She can't believe this was the same prankster that was almost as immature as Peeves was sometimes. The depth and knowledge he showed in his argument both made her think and intrigued her. More so, she was even more intrigued of the complexities that he might have had, somewhere, in that mind of his…

                "Still," she said, never one to be persuaded easily. She pushed her thoughts about George Weasley in the back of her mind. She would think about it some other time. "If they haven't been enslaved for so long, they wouldn't be that way. When they realize that there is more to life than the things they were brought up to believe, they'll realize they could do a lot more and be more useful."

                George sighed. Hermione was one of the most intelligent and open-minded person he knew, but there were times when it was so hard to talk to her. Sometimes, talking to her was like talking to a wall… both were deaf to other's views on things…

                "Suit yourself, Hermione," he said, as he stood up. "I just wanted you to see both sides of the argument. Good luck on that," said George turning away. "You seriously need it."

                George started walking away but he suddenly felt a backward pull. Looking back, he saw that Hermione had also gotten to her feet and was holding the back of his robes. He looked at her questioningly and realized she was blushing slightly.

                "Um, George? Could you…" she hesitated. Sighing, she seemed to gather enough courage to look him properly in the eye. "Could you show me the way to the kitchen?" she asked. "I promise you, I won't do anything to scare the house-elves."

                He laughed and held his hand in his, noticing how soft they were even though she use them all the time. "Sure thing, Hermione. You should have said so in the first place…"

                She smiled as he started leading her down several corridors, her small hand still enclosed in his big ones. After a few more corridors, she suddenly realized that they were at the entrance of their common room.

                "Uh… George? Why—"

                "I know… why are we here? Well, we'll start here so that you'll know exactly where the kitchen is from here, okay?" he asked, and she nodded. "But first," he added, smirking as he did so. "I have to get something in return… The way to the kitchen is a tiring and perilous journey."

                Hermione wanted to snap back a reply (in accordance with the tiring and perilous journey part), but she can't help turning pale. "What do you want?" she asked in a voice quite unlike her own. She felt like she was biting off more than she could chew.

                "You'll see…" he said mysteriously and then they were off again.

                Hermione suddenly dreaded asking for his help…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**

Okay… finally decided on which twin to pair Hermione up with. Like I said, I know they might seem OOC, and I'm sorry about that, but, eh… actually, I have no excuse as to why. I wanted them to see each other outside the usual look at them; a prankster and a bookworm. I want Hermione to see that George can be quite an intellectual too, and that Hermione can be entertaining sometimes, too. Okay, enough ranting… I always do this. Anyway, I do hope this was okay… please review! I really want to see how people view this… It seems so weird to me…

Thank you again to all those who reviewed! =) **sweetevangeline, ****wishinstart, ****pinkchicklet, ****c-fleurbleue, **Jana B**, and ****Ziegod**** Lizski. They were really very nice of you and it gave me a very warm and fuzzy feeling inside! (WAFF-y, WAFF-y feeling) It also gave me this notion that my story might actually be considered sane… I don't understand my plot you see… =/**

Special thanks to **Ziegod**** Lizski for the help regarding my grammar. I didn't know that! =) Please (if it wouldn't be such a bother) help me again, if you see words that I have, yet again, misused… (is misused a word? Oh well…)**

Man, long A/N… Oh well, I hope this could have entertained you somehow…

Later then,

**~c!**


	3. Finally, the way to the kitchen is revea...

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Author's Notes:**

Okaaaay… what is this about? Nothing really, just (as I think the title implies) Hermione and George's journey in going to the kitchen. I really think that everything that has got something to do with the twins will always be fun, but Hermione's quite a prim person and she wouldn't be immediately into the sort of thing that they do. Oh well, experimenting… experimenting… please don't be so harsh on me. First fic with this pairing… Thank you for all those who reviewed, by the way! It really meant a lot.

**Dedication:**

For all my friends who keep my insane level normal; to my mom who I love most above all else, though she always tells me to stay away, far away from the internet and computer, and always threatens to take my computer privileges away; to my dad who always encourages me and provides me with money to buy internet cards to post my useless stories; to my brother who makes me dumber each day by his useless diatribes; and, of course, to all those who reviewed, especially **wishinstar who I have slighted because I suck at spelling…**

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**The Tiring and Perilous Journey**

**(The Eventful Trip to the Kitchen)**

                "George?" Hermione's small voice called from somewhere behind him. "What—"

                He heard her, but chose to ignore her instead. She was quite a stubborn girl, isn't she? "Hermione, you can be so hard-headed sometimes, aren't you?" he asked her, interrupting her from her sentence. "Okay, seeing as you are such an intelligent person and all, could you please tell me truthfully… what part of 'No I will not tell you' don't you understand?" he said lightly, letting her know it was a joke. She scowled menacingly, but it was quite useless because he cannot see it. With her hand enclosed in his, he led the way, walking quite a way from her. She knew it was a joke, of course. However, the fact that he continued to keep whatever it was he was planning a secret, irritated Hermione to quite an extent.

                She never did liked surprises.

                Of course, she continued following him, seeing as he held her hands in his still. She vaguely wondered why George hadn't let go. Surely he didn't think she would run away from him, did he? She was too bent on knowing exactly where the kitchen was (not to mention the house-elves) to do that, no matter how irritating George turn out to be. 

                Some things just can't be done without sacrifices.

                If she were to trust George (a decision she was growing wary of by the minute), they have so far, went down six floors, and were now walking through the marble staircase into the entrance hall. She wanted to hurry, but didn't want to rush George. He might decide not to help her anymore, and that would really put a very nasty stop at her campaign.

                "It's so boring." George suddenly said, stopping her at her tracks. He turned and gave her an award winning smile; a smile she was rather suspicious of due to the fact that this is usually how the Weasley twins looked like when they were up to something.

                "Want to help me do something?" he asked her.

                She freed herself from his grasp, completely missing the slight disappointment that briefly flashed across his features. She turned her head to look at the hallway they have just walked through and surveyed the surroundings they were currently in. They haven't been walking that long, but it seems like they've gone through quite a way. The decors in this part of Hogwarts were completely different from what she had previously seen, and this place was somewhere she wasn't familiar with. She sighed and turned to look back at him. What was he up to now?

                "What now, George?" she asked him in a tired voice. "Want to rig the Great Hall so that it would sing love and happy songs for Snape all through out dinner? I don't think you've done that… though I hardly think that'll end us a lot of house points…" 

                Sarcasm and reprimand had been present in her voice, but George seemed quite oblivious to both.

                "Rig the Great Hall?" he exclaimed excitedly. "How come I didn't think of that? Hermione, you're a genius! Truly, a wonder after my own heart… Imagine how Snape would feel!" a smile began growing in his face as he thought of all the humiliation their most-beloved Potion's Master would be subjected to, for that act. "He'll be totally in the spotlight! Okay, now we'll just have to tell Fred about it and we can start making the plans. When do you think is the most appropriate date to do it?"

                Hermione gaped as he continued his wonderful tirade about 'Hermione's apparently great idea.' That is of course, until Hermione's foot _fell_ on his right foot. Painfully, he might add. Very painfully. He uttered a great big yelp, and immediately jumped up and down, using the uninjured foot. Looking at her with great big hurt eyes (that reminded Hermione of an injured puppy… a cute, red-haired extremely adorable puppy), he started the guilt-trip galore.

                "Hermione, how could you? I could have been seriously injured ("From being stamped in the foot?" she said, cutting him off, but he only raised his voice and pretended not to hear her.) How could you live with yourself if you knew that you caused my eternal damnation? I could have suffered forever… I could have been scarred for eternity. I could be –"

                Hermione tuned him out, rolling her eyes at the idiocy of his logic. _She_ was scarred for eternity by just hearing that speech of his. Seriously, she must remind herself to stay away from the Weasley twins; even more so when they're by themselves. Listening to them by one's lonesome would make that person dumb.

                Sighing, she held her hands to his face and smacked him lightly in the forehead. Surprised, he stopped his diatribe and stared at her, quite intently.

                "You," she said slowly, emphasizing each word. "are a very bad influence."

                He smiled at her then, forgetting the pain (or so he said) of his _seriously_ injured foot. "On you?"

                "On anyone, George. But more so to Harry and Ron." She answered him, willing herself not to smile back. "Seriously, if you've seen them sometime, they can almost be compared to you guys. Although I suppose, they mainly target Snape and Malfoy."

                He snorted at that and made a wild gesture with his hands. "Who wouldn't? Those two gits are the bloodiest… er, well, gits this side of the world! Could you really blame us for that?"

                "That's not an excuse to think bad thoughts about them, you know. You should try to understand, or maybe just not think about them at all… What's the use of thinking about things that upset you anyway?" she said, in a voice reminding him of McGonagall's when she was lecturing (or reprimanding them every time they did something wrong… whichever of those two could be chosen. Their Transfiguration teacher hardly changes countenance anyway…). 

                He looked at her through the corner of his eyes using this time to study her. Though they didn't notice it, both of them had started walking once more and, for some bizarre reason, her hand had once again, became enclosed in his. She was looking ahead, or at the walls, marveling at different paintings or scrutinizing them. Sometimes, her eyes would light up at particular paintings and she would mutter about which book she has read them in and what contribution to the wizarding world they had done.

                Hermione Granger would always be a bookworm. She was the little girl with the bushy hair, the buck teeth, and the bag that almost always seemed to burst at the seams with the overload of books she was always carrying. She was the bossy and extremely intelligent girl his ickle brother had repeatedly bad-mouthed in their first Hogwarts year. Yes, he knows about that… It wasn't _really_ eavesdropping. It's not even snooping. Mom did tell them to look out for their youngest brother didn't she? So that's exactly what he and Fred did. _Looked out for their little brother… She always seemed to be holding one towering book after another towering book and was like a walking, breathing encyclopedia. However, prior to this, he had never seen her become so passionate about something. He saw how she had gotten during the whole Chamber thing, but that incident had placed her life in danger. What was so important about a bunch of house-elves to bring about such passion? He could see what she wanted to accomplish, but she would always be alone in this cause. Even the elves, would be against it… why couldn't she see?_

                "What's the use of thinking about accomplishing something that is in all entirety, impossible, then?" he asked, as they turned a left at the bottom of the staircase. He saw her surprise and the sharp turn of her head to look at him but he ignored it. He wouldn't look at her knowing she could burn him with the intensity of that gaze.

                However, instead of snapping countless debates about the wrong done to the elves, she surprised him back by answering him softly… something he couldn't understand at first…

_Somebody said that it couldn't be done,_

_But he with a chuckle replied_

_That "maybe it couldn't" but he would be one_

_Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried_

_So he buckled right in with a trace of a grin_

_On his face. If he worried he hid it_

_He started to sing as he tackled the thing_

_That couldn't be done, and he did it._

                He failed to connect the… song? Poem? Eh… was that her answer?  to the matter at hand. He seriously couldn't understand. He'd never been one for poems. He preferred straight and to the point answers. What was the use of colorful words then if it could only make the receiver more confused? You go through all the trouble of making a colorful entry only to have people go, 'Huh?' 'What?' 'I don't get it.'

                It was very confusing to say the least. He looked at her, only to realize that her eyes were halfway closed and an almost wistful and melancholic look was on her otherwise serene face. A small smile played on her lips, as if she were in a place far from this downward flight of stone steps.

                "When I was young," she said, eyes still halfway closed and that small smile still on her lips. "My dad always said that in a sing-song voice whenever I tell him that I couldn't possibly do this, or could never ever accomplish that." She looked at him straight in the eyes, her smile growing a little. "He was a very optimistic person and would always prod me to do something I want to do. 'How would you know if you haven't even tried?' he always tells me, and then he'd do everything in his power to help me accomplish my goals."

                As they started through a flight of steps, a slight pause overcame them. They would be there soon, George thought, and somehow, this particular notion saddened him. "He isn't here now," Hermione continued, steering him away from his thoughts. "but wouldn't this be a perfect way to show what I learned from him. I was always taught to fight for what I believe in… so what if I had no one to help me? At least I know I tried to do something about it, before admitting defeat."

                He didn't know what to answer to that, so he kept his silence. It really didn't matter; she seemed to be preoccupied with her own thoughts to listen to any word he might utter anyway. Though George was never really used to this kind of silence, he reveled at this. He had never seen this side of Hermione before, and, if he were a betting man, he'd wager everything he owned that he was the very first person she had ever confided with that memory.

                He smiled, and unconsciously tightened his hold on her hand. He soon became lost in the fond thoughts this particular moment had given him. Hermione, who was brought out of her reminiscing by the sudden tightening of his hand, now looked at George. She briefly wondered what he was thinking of. She had never seen that particular smile at him before.

                He turned and looked at her then and suddenly their eyes met. Both smiled.

                "Guess what?" he asked her, using his hold on her hand to move her closer to him. "Anything odd about this place?"

                It was then that Hermione realized where they were. She had gotten lost in her own thoughts halfway through the stone steps, and, she noticed now, instead of emerging in a place like the dungeons, she found herself in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

                It was the paintings that gave the answer away.

                "Oh!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Are we near?"

                "Yup! Just a little way and we'll see the painting of the fruit's bowl. All you have to do is tickle the pear and the door would emerge. You know this right?" he asked and she nodded in response. "Now," he said. "since, we're getting near, remember your promise?"

                She looked at him confused before the answer dawned on her. "Yes, George, I remember. I won't do anything to scare the house-elves." She replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She lost in that battle and George laughed seeing her do so.

                "Do you remember the way?"

                "I think I got a fair hold of it… Okay, from our common room, I should go back to the corridor, go through six floors, walk down the marble staircase into the entrance hall and turn left at the bottom of the staircase. Uhm…" she hesitated, trying to recall the exact way they had gone through.

                "Go on," he urged. "You got it perfectly up to the last part. So, what's next?"

                "After that… go inside the door behind the staff table?" she asked and seeing his affirmative nod, continued with what her memory offered her. "Okay. Inside the door behind the staff table, down the flight of stone steps, and then I'll emerge here in this corridor… right?"

                "Perfect!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, and she can't help but smile back. "You are so smart, Hermione. I bet you could outwit your parents when you were in diapers." He teased, earning a playful smack in the arm.

                Walking down a little, they finally stopped in front of a large painting of a fruit bowl. George, who finally decided to let go of her hand (much to her chagrin… she was missing it), demonstrated in a very exaggerated manner, how to make it open up. He mocked bowed, brushed his robe and stretched before actually tickling the pear, watching it squirm and chuckle before turning into a door handle. George turned the knob until he heard a soft click, but suddenly covered the entrance she had been searching for.

                "What?" she snapped irritably, unsuccessfully trying to push him away to see even a tiny view of the place. "Come on, George. Move! I promised already, didn't I?"

                "Yes, I know you did," he replied, smirking. "But you're forgetting something very important…"

                Hermione stopped and contemplated his words. What was she forgetting anyway? There isn't anything else that needs to be done, right? She wracked her brains for the answer but it always turned blank. Sighing, she finally decided to stop torturing her mind and just ask him what it was.

                "I've thought of this for the whole duration of our strenuous expedition," he started, arms crossed and face schooled in a too serious expression, it made her stop in her supposedly planned diatribe pertaining the strenuous expedition part. "I finally figured out what I want…" he said, watching as Hermione turned pale at what he was pertaining to. How could she have forgotten that part of their deal?

                Hermione watched as a smile appeared on George's lips, and suddenly, she very much preferred his former countenance. A serious George usually meant business George; a smiling George usually meant up-to-his-usual-tricks George. She would so very much prefer the former, thank you very much.

                He walked away from his position, giving her the view of what she had been looking for. He moved behind her and laid a hand gently in the small of her back leading the way. Pushing her gently, they started for the kitchens.

                "Ready?" he asked, and she being in front of him, failed to see his smile.

                He had a feeling this would be a special day indeed…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**

I'm so proud of myself! This was quite a long chapter! =) Okay, so I know that I'm just in the third installment and that this isn't really a long chapter (compared to the other two, though, it was!) but… eh, okay. Now my mood is shattered. *pouts*

Anyway, I'd like to thank the ones who reviewed! **DazedPanda****, Chee-Ionos, wishinstar, Jade, 6th March 2003 (eh? Sorry… didn't know your real name) and **C Jazz.** You people are really awesome! Also, I would like to say my apologies to ****wishinstar whose penname I have misspelled. I'll try to correct it as soon as I'm able. Thank you for pointing it out and still reviewed.**

The directions were stated in the books. If I'm not mistaken… *buries head in a book 4* Okaaay… **Chapter 21: The House-Elf Liberation Front, p. 373-374. The part about the door behind the staff table was the door that Harry and Cedric went through during the Goblet of Fire name-spewing. =) It was stated in ****Chapter 16: The Goblet of Fire, p. 268. Dumbledore said it. By the way, this is in the US edition of HP. So I'm not sure where it is in the British edition.**

By the way, the poem Hermione quoted was by **Edgar A. Guest. I don't know the title, though… -_-x But I like it all the same. I liked it better because it rhymes… I am such a sucker for rhyming poems… Actually, I'm such a sucker for poems in general. If a guy courts me, I'd immediately answer them if they happen to be great writers or poets! Erhm… It's a good thing we have pennames here at FFNet… -_-x**

Okay, that's all really… that A/N has been really long, not to mention nonsensical, no? Sorry about that…

**~c!**


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